Concierge of the Dewy Garden

At the meeting of my poetry reading club, The Talk Party, a consensus was reached that poetry should not necessarily be indirect and there is nothing profane in poetry. As a result I have decided to post a poem I wrote so many years ago but which I have scarcely taken out for people to read. Here I am posting it for the first time on blogspot and for the second time on any social site.

Rooted at the intersection

Of the double flapping doors

At the entrance strewn with the nectar

Of sweet-scented straggling roses

Is the Concierge of the Dewy Garden of Even

Shivering, yet supinely erect

The sensuous concierge ushers in

In grumbles and murmurs

And in deluge of fast-paced paroxysms

The Adonis of this florid flexuous

Gothic sepulchral catacomb

Which had singularly caused

The downfall of greater nations

And chosen men of greater faith

Slipping past the concierge

In lecherous arrogance,

Through the gooey squirting nectar

Frictionless, but fitting fully and firmly

Into nature’s much much adored

Yet illogical jigsaw puzzle,

Surveying and exploring with

Great speed and admiration

Every lateral, dorsal, ventral

Proximal and distal convoluted sluices

Sowing the primordial seed of need

In a maelstrom of nervous implosions

Then leaving it to germinate, bloom

And fruit within the hidden dewy garden

And harvested at time’s third end through

The conspiratorial concierge of the dewy garden

copyright 2004 by Nana Fredua-Agyeman